


A Series of Moments in Time

by huff_le_puff



Series: Harry Potter One Shots [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BAMF Hermione Granger, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Brotp, Cat Puns, Character Death, Comfort, Daily Prophet, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, French Characters, Funny, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nail Polish, Not Canon Compliant, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Other, POV Hermione Granger, Phone Calls & Telephones, Platonic Cuddling, Poisoning, Protective Siblings, Punching, Sibling Love, Song Lyrics, Sparring, Supportive Ron Weasley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-11-12 19:27:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18016946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huff_le_puff/pseuds/huff_le_puff
Summary: These were just unsortable, honestly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing (if any): Molly Weasley/Arthur Weasley  
> Warning:   
> Words: 223

Arthur turned over quietly in the bed he and his wife shared. He was careful not to wake her, she needed all the sleep she could get, but failed. She was such a light sleeper.

 

"Arthur?" she murmured, sitting up.

 

"Good morning, Molly."He rubbed his hand over her -- rather large -- stomach. She must be due anytime now.

 

She opened her eyes, the brown shade he adored peering at him, like chocolate covered caramel."It's nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today."

 

He grinned at her. She could be so sappy sometimes. "I'm surprised Bill and Charlie haven't come running up yet."

 

Molly nodded suspiciously. "That's very true," she narrowed her eyes to listen.

 

After several moments, there was the thud of footsteps and the door opened. "Daddy, Mummy!" Charlie yelled, the three year old jumping onto the bed.

 

"Can we go flyin' today?" He begged Arthur. "Please?"

 

"We'll see, Charlie." Arthur said, ruffling his fiery red hair. "Why don't you go make yourself some toast while we get dressed?"

 

The two boys cheered, five year old Bill leading the way.

 

"FOOD! FOOD! FOOD!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing (if any): Ginny Weasley & Ron Weasley  
> Warning: heartbreak  
> Words: 454

Ron's Floo flared, and he saw Ginny's head in it. "Ginny, it's two in the morning, what are you doing here?"

She sniffled quietly, hoping he couldn't hear. "I wanted to talk, please? I didn't want to go to anyone else."

Ron couldn't help feeling a bit of pride that she'd chosen him of all the brothers. "Yeah, of course. I'll get you a...?"

Ginny muttered, "Butterbeer, thanks."

When Ron returned, Ginny was helping herself to his tissues. Ron decided to wait a few seconds until she'd composed herself -- she hated being caught crying, likely from growing up with all boys.

After a minute Ron walked over, making sure to stumble more than usual to alert her of his presence. "Here you go, Ginny."

She took the drink gratefully.

After sipping some of his own, he asked what she was doing there. "Is everything alright?"

Ginny shrugged. "Nate dumped me, by owl." 

Ron glared. "He dumped you?" 

Ginny nodded.

  "By owl?"

She nodded with a laugh. "Yes, he dumped me. Thanks for rubbing it in."

  "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. 

After a few seconds of silence, Ron asked, "Did you love him?" 

Ginny answered almost immediately. "Yes."

  "Did he love you?"

It took a minute for Ginny to speak. "Sometimes."

 Ron scooted closer to his younger sister. Why anyone couldn't love her was beyond him.

  "Thanks," Ginny chuckled.

  "I, ah, didn't realize I'd said it aloud." Ron blushed. "But it's true. You don't need him."

 She shook her head, and leaned into his chest. "I did. I really did."

 Ron rubbed her shoulder, then offered, "I could punch him if you'd like."

  "No, I've gotten it covered."

 He raised a brow at her.

  "I sent him a letter, saying I would send his things in the morning. I jinxed his clothes with...stuff."

 Ron shuddered. "Remind me never to make you angry."

   "You haven't learned already?" Ginny teased. "Thanks, for all this."

   "No problem, but,"

   "But?"

   "Why'd you come to me? I think I'd be the last person anyone would go to after a breakup, or anything."

 She shrugged. "We've always been closer. Besides, I knew you wouldn't make a big fuss. Mum would coddle me, George...well, he's not in it, Percy's, Percy, Bill and Fleur aren't around, Charlie'd probably end up in Azkaban. You're the best choice."

   "Even out of your friends?"

   "Hermione's not good with feelings either, you know. And Luna's away with Rolf...you really are the best choice."

 Ron squeezed her arm. "Thanks. You're the best sister I can imagine."

   "Thanks. I'd say you're my favorite brother, but that wouldn't be fair."

   "Yeah, I get it."

   "How are you and Hermione?"

   ''Alright, how's Arnold?"

 Ginny laughed. "Arnold, my pygmy puff? Great."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets a kitten and names him Frank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing (if any): Harry & a kitten  
> Warning: cheesy last line, a pun  
> Words: 375

Harry had adopted Franklin nearly two years ago from a rundown animal shelter on a rainy Tuesday. He wasn't quite sure how he remembered it so clearly, but he did. Franklin had been -- and still was -- the most important person/animal in Harry's life since Ginny.  
  Franklin was a cat. A bloody amazing cat, to be frank.  
 Franklin has beautiful grey fur, with white patches across his paws, chest, and nose. He has bright yellow eyes, which look smudged by eyeliner. He's very fluffy, not to mention playful. Of course, if Franklin knows Harry doesn't want to play, he'll cuddle instead.

  "Franklin, I'm home!" This was the beginning to their routine. Harry often left before sunrise for work, came home stressed -- sometimes bloody! -- called out for Franklin, and slumped into the sofa in front of the television. Franklin would scamper into his lap, and bat at Harry's glasses until Harry laughed, and fed them both.

 Franklin couldn't imagine his life before Harry, and Harry hated his life before the kitten.

It was a good match. They lived for each other.

It took some getting used to, of course. Franklin wasn't fond of Kreacher, or the Floo, or loud noises...which Harry made a lot of. And Harry wasn't used to the smell of litter, or mews at four in the morning, or the fur everywhere. But they adjusted.

Some of the worst nightmares Harry had were solved by the consistent purring on Harry's chest, and he was easily grounded during a panic attack by the sharp claws in his bicep. Franklin had to be fed daily, more than once, so that kept Harry from doing something utterly stupid, like forgetting to eat. How one could simply forget to eat, Franklin -- and Ron -- didn't know.

Harry's love life had become nonexistent after Ginny, not that Franklin didn't try to help! He just didn't want Harry hurt. So if he got a bad vibe from the girls or guys that came over, well, let's just say he was still working on keeping his claws under control.

They protected each other, and loved each other. Harry gave Franklin love that rainy Tuesday by adopting him, and Franklin gave eternal love in return.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing ( if any):   
> Warning: platonic cuddling, Hermione POV  
> Words: 585

It's odd, really.   
Harry doesn't like being touched, but he loves cuddling. He cuddles with anyone he can. 

Just the other day I found him cuddling with Mister Weasley! Which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but he is a twenty four year old man, you wouldn't think he'd want to cuddle with his best friend's dad. 

Knowing him for thirteen years, I too have cuddled him, as has Ron, heck-even Neville's cuddled with Harry! 

Every "cuddle buddy" has a different style, which is actually kind of sweet.

Charlie is perhaps Harry's favorite "cuddle buddy". Maybe because Charlie's build is that of a teddy bear, or maybe the things he does absentmindedly when they cuddle. He shifts Harry partway into his lap and gently runs his fingers through Harry's unruly hair. Sometimes he draws patterns faintly on Harry's stomach or cheek, sometimes he hums. 

Another favorite is Percy. I'm not sure why, exactly. Maybe it's because it took a lot of persuading. It could be the fact that Percy reads to him as Harry leans on his shoulder. He'll read whatever book he's interested in, or maybe a children's book, depending on the minute. 

Ginny always kisses his forehead every so often, but mainly just holds him. She's simple in that way, and sometimes that's all Harry wants. Simplicity. 

Molly likes to feed him when they cuddle, any chance to fatten him up she takes. Usually it's in the kitchen, in a large armchair used for knitting. She'll feed him a bowl of soup, or tell him what The Weasleys were like as young kids while she knits. Harry finds it funny, especially because they're mortified. 

Fleur likes to play with his hair, and sing to him in French. He obviously can't understand, but it's soothing somehow? I'm not quite sure. 

Bill doesn't cuddle too much, but when he does, he talks with Harry of his career and current events. I think Harry needs the reality check sometimes and goes to Bill for it. 

George makes jokes, and he blows in Harry's ears a lot. It makes Harry giggle and blush, which is quite funny to watch. I know a few times they've gotten quite...intimate and cried. It's none of my business, but I think they were talking about Fred and Sirius. Shh don't tell them I said that. 

Ron . . . was a bit weird about it at first. The first time he cuddled with Harry it was somewhat of an accident. We were in the Gryffindor Common Room doing nothing in particular when Harry went to retrieve something from his dorm. When he came back, he tripped over my stack of maybe six books. Oops? He fell into Ron's lap and they just didn't move. Ron had said something cheesy like, "I think you've just fell for me." Of course Harry thought it was hilarious. 

As for when he cuddles with me—

  "Hey um, 'Mione?" A voice came from behind the door. 

  "Yes Harry?"

  "Can we cuddle?" Harry asked. 

Usually he  just plops himself next to-slash-on the "cuddle buddy" for the day, but I am at my desk, usually. 

I smiled at him and made my way to the made-up bed. I crawled under the covers and beckoned for Harry. "Well, come on. I haven't told you about my latest book."

Harry climbed in, and I pulled him to my chest so we were facing the same way and talked. This was what we did. Occasionally I will toy with his fingers or he my hair, but we like it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing (if any): Ron & Luna  
> Warning: the word arse,  
> Words: 282

Ron didn't quite remember how he'd ended up talking to Luna at nine o'clock in the morning. He could be playing chess with Harry, sleeping, eating, sleeping!   
 But for whatever reason, he was sitting with Luna on a hill that overlooked the lake, listening to her blab about something. 

  "What?" he asked incredulously. Was she talking about freckles?

  "I like noticing details that nobody else bothers to see." Luna told him matter-of-factly. 

Ron stared at her. "Like _what_ , Luna?"

  "Well, after the war Harry developed a few habits out of anxiety. He still does them sometimes. He bites his lip so hard he has scars from the flesh breaking."

Ron stared at her. 

  "And Ginny does this thing with her food where after she chews it to the swallowing point she swishes it around her mouth exactly twice before swallowing like it's a bitter potion."

Ron really could not believe this. How did she know all of this?

  "And you've always done this thing with your toes. You rise up and down on them when in an awkward situation. It's probably really good for your calves, actually. Your brother George breaks his nails when he's bored, all except his left pointer finger. That one always has a perfect stripe painted on it."

  "Hermione likes to flick air with her thumb and middle finger, usually she does that when she's thinking quite hard."

  "Tell me more." Ron asked, suddenly interested.

  "Well, your older brother — Charlie maybe? The one who is rather fascinated with dragons — looks at Harry's arse quite a lot."

Ron spluttered and choked on his spit. "He what?"

 

  "Oh yes, I often see him admiring Harry's entire physique, but especially his bum. Though I can't blame him, Harry's bum rea-"

  "Sorry Luna, I have to go. Talk later. CHARLIE WEASLEY WHAT'S THIS ABOUT YOU CHECKING OUT MY MATE'S ARSE?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing (if any): Hermione & Tonks  
> Warning:  
> Words: 694

Tonks watched Hermione sit in her bed, a pile of books surrounding her.   
 She watched from the door as quietly as she could, but sneezed, banging her elbow on the wall. "OUCH!"

Hermione jumped, looking up. "Oh, it's just you, Tonks."

  "What are you, um, reading?"

  "Oh, just some light reading, you know," If seven books was 'light' Tonks didn't want to know what heavy was. 

Tonks sat on the bed, scanning a few of the titles. _'The Secrets of War' 'The Art of War' 'The Best Way to Stay Alive During War'_ and a book from the last war, _'Voldemort and The Potters: Why Is It Important?'_

  "Hermione," Tonks said, "Why are you reading all of this?"

Hermione stared at her as if she was an idiot.     
  "Well, there's a war going on. I'm not letting any of us die! I need to know how to protect Harry, and Ron, and everyone."

Tonks raised a pink eyebrow, patting one of the books with her hand. "Books won't help you here. But I can!"

Hermione stared at her, chewing her lip.     
  "None of the adults here want us knowing anything, how are going to help?"

Tonks pulled out her wand. "I learned two very important things in my twenty-two years of life. One, being able to take someone down with just your fist is a wonderful skill to learn. Two, most of the Death Eaters won't know how to fight without their wand."

When Hermione continued to stare, Tonks continued, "I'm going to bet you never learned how to properly spar. Is this correct?"

Hermione nodded. "But Harry says I have a wonderful right hook."

  "Does he now?

  "Yeah, back in third year I punched Malfoy, and Harry wouldn't stop telling me how good it was."

Tonks was so startled she fell, laughing, off Hermione's bed.  
  "I'll have to ask him about that sometime. For now, however, we need to teach you to fight. I'm sure Sirius has got an empty room around here somewhere... I'll come get you when I find one."

Hermione nodded, already wondering if Hogwarts' library would have any books about sparring.

* * *

  "No, see, you need your hands to rest in front of your face. . . Gotta protect the money maker, right? Besides, it's easier to punch from this stance."

Hermione took a swing, testing it out.

  "Like that?"

Tonks studied her for a minute. "No, not quite. That's okay! Look at your fists. You see your thumbs?"

Hermione nodded, looking at the thumbs tucked beneath her clenched fingers.

  "You want those on top of your fingers. If they're under you're likely to break your thumb when you punch."

Once Hermione had fixed it, Tonks continued, "And when you're punching, your feet need to be less planted. Watch mine."

Tonks began bouncing on her toes, swaying a bit. "You need as much movement as you can, if you want to take someone out. If you're light on your feet, you can jump away from any hits, and it's easier on the body."

Next, Tonks taught her how beneficial pivoting was. This resulted on Tonks with a bruised knee, from falling. "That' s not supposed to happen, I'm a special case."

  "I thought so."

  "Yeah, alright, Miss-I-Have-Proper-Balance. Now, your fists can be pretty loose. When you punch, tighten 'em like this -- yeah, that's good! And exhale as you punch, it helps give you better impact. Try to put as much  of your body weight behind the punch as you can. Without getting off balance, of course. That's where I have trouble. It's not the punches fault, of course . . . ."

A few very sweaty minutes later, Tonks nodded in satisfaction. "Much better than my first day! Just remember when you jab, don't pivot and turn -- on punches _do_ pivot and turn. Jabbing is a quick movement, they should feel it but not see it, that's what Mad-Eye says."

Hermione sighed, wiping sweat from her face with her shirt. "Thanks, Tonks."

Tonks nodded, clapping her on the shoulder. "No problem, kiddo. You've suffered enough, it's about time you won."

Hermione blinked as it hit her: _They had suffered, and it was about time they won._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing (if any):  
> Warning: mentioned/implied major character death, lyric from Crying Game by Cady Groves  
> Words: 379
> 
> note: August 2020, Louis is 14

There was a pounding against the door, and Louis ran to get it. "Madam, how may I help you?"

  "Is Bill Weasley home?"

  "Yes, who am I to tell him is here?"

  "Auror Melinda Wagner, urgent business."

Louis nodded, and left her standing in the doorway. "Dad, there's an Auror at the door for you."

  
  "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, the Ministry offers to hold the funeral—"

  "No, we have it covered. They wouldn't have wanted a Ministry funeral."

Auror Wagner looked ready to argue, but shook her head. "As you wish. Auror Potter and Auror Weasley will be deeply missed. I'll leave you to your grief."

Bill nodded. "Have you told their spouses?"

  "No, Sir. I was ordered to tell you, as the Eldest Weasley. I'm very sorry."

Bill nodded again. "Louis, show Auror Wagner out, please. I'll be back in half an hour."

* * *

He'd buried too many brothers. Fred, then Ron, and finally Harry. 

He thought Fred's funeral was the worst, but no. Burying two brothers in one day was much worse. Harry might not have the red hair every Weasley did, but he was just as much family as Ron or anyone else was. 

  "We can't keep doing this," he sighed, sitting in his dad's old chair. "I don't want to bury any more brothers."

Hermione wiped at her face and added, "Or sisters,"

  "Or sisters." Charlie and George echoed. 

Ginny pointed at the table. "The first time I saw Harry I dipped my arm in the butter dish just here. The _butter dish_."

George cleared his throat, but it didn't do much for his croaky voice. "I remember when we helped him escape the Dursleys. Flew Dad's old car, Mum was so angry."

Percy nodded. "I never saw a boy smile so large, as Harry did, while de-gnoming the garden."

George forced out a laugh. "He did enjoy that."

James Sirius pointed at the creaky stairs. "I remember, that's where Uncle Ron got sick after eating too much of Christmas dinner."

Hermione shook her head. "They were pigs, the both of them. Always eating."

They shared stories the entire night, and just before Bill fell completely asleep, he thought, Three brothers in graves. I never wanted to outlive them. It's like a cruel game.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pairing (if any): Harry & Fleur  
> Warning:  
> Words: 491

Harry had been minding his own business, just daydreaming in the Burrow's apple orchard, when the smell of rose perfume overcame his senses.

 

  "Oh, 'arry! Just ze boy I wanted to see!" Fleur exclaimed, sitting down carefully on a large rock. 

 

  "Oh, hey Fleur. What are you up to?"

 

  "Why, talking to you, silly!" She reached forward, taking his left hand in both of hers, frowning. "Oh, no. This will not do."

 

Harry looked at his hand, and couldn't see what 'wouldn't do'. Sure, his hand had a cut from last night when he'd accidentally cut it instead of the carrot, but it wasn't a bad hand. He rather liked that hand. 

 She pulled at it, Harry coming to his feet. "Fleur, what are we doing?"

 

  "You can brood later, 'arry. We are going to paint your nails!"

 

Harry stared, open mouthed. He thought he should protest, that's what Ron would do. But he just said, "No one's painted my nails before."

 

Fleur flipped her hair behind her shoulder, and scoffed, "Of course not. You brits don't believe in painting boys' nails. In France we have a saying. La vie est trop courte pour les ongles nus."

 

  "Er, what does that mean?" 

 

Fleur sighed. "Life is too short for bare nails." 

 

Harry nodded, at a loss of how to respond. 

 

  "You are an awkward petite chose, aren't you?"

 

  "Pardon?"

 

  "Leetle thing. You are an awkward leetle thing, 'arry."

 

  "I resent being called little."

 

  "Well, you are."

 

 

By now, they were in Bill's old bedroom, and Fleur was looking in his dresser. 

 

  "What color, black or pink?"

 

  "Black! Black please."

 

Fleur grinned. "You are différent, 'arry."

 

Harry frowned. "I don't know whether I should take offense to that."

 

  "Give me your thumb."

 

She started to paint, getting barely none on Harry's skin. 

 

  "Don't tell Bill but," she leaned in, "I am enceinte, pregnant."

 

  "You're pregnant?" Harry exclaimed, his hand moving.  
 

"Still!" Fleur exclaimed. "But, yes, I am. I believe I will tell everyone tonight at dinner. It will give Bill quite a surprise, non?"

 

Harry stared at her for a minute before laughing. "Know what would be better? If you gave him a cake, with icing written on it."

 

  "The icing says?"

 

  "Hi Daddy."

 

They stared at each other for a few seconds before they both burst into laughter. 

 

  "Merde! It smudged." Fleur cursed, wiping Harry's pinky. 

 

Finally, after an hour, Harry's nails were done. 

 

They sat talking, until Ron opened the door. "There you are! Dinner's ready. Hey, what's with your hands, Mate?"

 

Harry looked down at them again. "Oh, Fleur painted them. They look pretty, don't they?"

 

Ron gave him an odd look. "Um, sure Mate."

 

Fleur smirked. "Ron, I believe I 'ave something that would match your 'air, if you're interested?"

 

Ron's eyes grew big, and he shook his head quickly. "No way!" As he ran down the stairs, there was a thud and Fleur laughed. "Boys, such idiots."


	9. Chapter 9

She had been poisoned. A year ago, perhaps Hermione would have cried, demanded the anecdote from her captor. But she was older now, more mature. 

She looked across the table, where they were grinning.

 “How long do I have, Viktoria?”

Viktoria Argent slammed her hand on the table, making the dishes rattle. “My name is Poison and you shall call me as such!”

 “We both know you’re only doing this to prove something. Your mother didn’t believe you could do something great, you want to prove her wrong. You think poisonings and killing innocents will—“

Hermione’s head was slammed into the wood table.

 “Shut up!”

Hermione looked up, smiling. Her lip was cracked and bloody, but she smiled. “How long do I have, Viktoria?”

 “Twenty two minutes. Any last words, Granger?”

 “Yes, I believe so.”

Viktoria glowered. “Well?”

 “I’d like to call my family. Let them know I’ll be late for dinner.”

 “You’ll only tell them I’ve captured you. I’m not stupid.”

 “I won’t. I don’t want them getting hurt too. The poison is already active, I can feel it, Viktoria. Just let me tell my family I love them... You wouldn’t deny a girl her dying wish, would you?”

Viktoria stamped around the stone basement, before handing Hermione a mobile phone. “One call.”

Hermione took it from her, her hands were shaking as she dialed the number for her best friend. 

She listened for the rings.

_Ring! _

_Ring! _

_Ring! _

He picks up just halfway through the fourth ring.   “Oh, ‘Mione, hey!”

 “Harry, it’s nice to talk to you.”

 “Yeah, it is. Are we still on for drinks at the pub next Saturday?”

Hermione puts on a fake laugh. She can feel the blood coming up her throat. She doesn’t have much time.   “Sorry, Harry, something’s come up. I need you to do me a favor, actually.”

 “...Hermione, where are you?”

 “A meeting. Harry, promise me something.”

 “What?”

 “Look after Ron and Rose.”

 “Hermi-“

 “Promise me, Harry James!”

 “I...promise. What’s going on?”

 “I love you, Harry. You’re the best little brother a girl could have.”

 “Tell me what’s going on, Hermione!”

 “Don’t let them play any of that sad music at my funeral, okay? Play that song we danced to, in the tent.”

 “Thirty nine? By Queen?”

She smiled. “Yes, that one. I’ll miss you, take care of yourself. And my parents, Harry! Make sure they’re well cared for.”

 “I will, but you have to tell me what’s going on. Hermione? Hermione? Are you there?”

Hermione’s head fell to the table with a thud, and Viktoria spoke into the receiver. “Harry, love. Granger is dead.”

 “Who is this? What have you done to her?”

 “She’s gone! Her daughter shall be next.”

 “Who are you?”

 “Poison.” And with that, she hung up. They would get what was coming to them, in time.  For now, she wanted a cheeseburger. Poisoning someone was hard work. 


End file.
